Come on. Jump Off.

'Let's go on the zip wire', says my 5 year old great-nephew.

I don't think he means me and his grandma.

But when he's had a few whooshing rides,  he says,

Now you.

Is is safe?  I say.

Will it hold my weight?

Is it meant for grown-ups?

It's for everyone, he says, handing me the suspended rubber seat.

Just get on it and go.

I stand at the edge, looking down at the long muddy track below me. 

Come on, he says.

Jump off.

I'm going to race you.

And because he's waiting for me

and because I want him to think 

I'm a cool great-aunty

and because I'm scared 

of falling off

but I'm more scared

of going back

of giving up

of failing

I leap out 

into the air 

and scream

and laugh

at the same time

 and 

sail along beside

 the little boy

who is running next to me

then ahead of me 

as my momentum 

slows 

to a stop.

Yeah, I won, he says.

You did,

I say.

And hug my own little triumph inside me.